


Remission

by summerofspock



Series: Recovering [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Human, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pining, Sexual Content, and they were doctors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/pseuds/summerofspock
Summary: They kissed for the first time after a Christmas party at the pub down the street from the hospital a year after they had met. Crowley shouldn’t have done it that way. He should have continued his steady wooing - Oh, Aziraphale, let’s grab lunch. Could you give me your advice on a case? Let’s get coffee - and not gotten one beer too drunk and drowned in those blue eyes.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Recovering [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615501
Comments: 89
Kudos: 747





	Remission

**Author's Note:**

> crowley pov (ish) of Recovering
> 
> thanks for all the support on Recovering! It inspired me to write a bit more in this AU.
> 
> there will be another installment including their first date and some lovey dovey stuff sometime here soon!
> 
> thanks to seekwill for a quick beta!

Anthony Crowley - _call me Crowley, thank you_ \- was not the type of person to beg. He’d been accepted into his first choice med school, his first choice university. Crowley was the type of person who got what he wanted on the first try, sucked every drop of joy out of the experience and then moved on. The only thing that he’d never moved on from was medicine. When he was young he’d wanted to be an artist, but joy there was fleeting so Crowley found something better, something tangible, and if he sometimes sketched flowers in the wee hours of the evening, no one needed to know.

Because Crowley got what he wanted, he got his residency at his first choice hospital in London, realized he didn’t like it, and went from hospital to hospital until he found one he did like. Tadfield. Small enough that he could really know his patients, big enough to not get boring. Gabriel, the chief of medicine, was a prick. But Crowley was a prick too so it all worked out.

Crowley had been working at Tadfield General for three years. He’d had everything figured out. Nice apartment. A few friends. Favorite patients. Then Gabriel had gone and hired a new GP with hair the color of clouds and eyes like the sea and Crowley was forced to reassess his stance on begging.

* * *

The fact of the matter was that Aziraphale was nothing special. Crowley had met him on his first day and thought, _That one’s soft. He won’t last_. 

The man had been standing at the back of the group of assembled staff, wringing his hands, dressed all in beige - waistcoat and trousers like something out of a Victorian fashion plate. It had suited him but Crowley wasn’t about to admit it.

Crowley liked the soft ones. They were easy to sink his teeth into, get them to fall at his feet and do his bidding. Except, Aziraphale had glanced at him that first day, eyes full of nerves and it had tugged at heartstrings Crowley had forgotten he had.

He had made a stupid joke. Aziraphale had laughed.

He didn’t remember anything except that laugh and the way he’d been absolutely certain he would do anything to hear it again.

* * *

They kissed for the first time after a Christmas party at the pub down the street from the hospital a year after they had met. Crowley shouldn’t have done it that way. He should have continued his steady wooing - _Oh, Aziraphale, let’s grab lunch. Could you give me your advice on a case? Let’s get coffee_ \- and not gotten one beer too drunk and drowned in those blue eyes. Looking back on it, he thought maybe Aziraphale had been the one to drag him into the bathroom, the one to fumble open his belt. But Crowley had been kiss drunk _and_ drunk drunk so he didn’t know for sure.

The way Aziraphale had looked at him after, shocked and uncertain, made Crowley’s stomach turn over. That hadn’t been what he wanted. No soft pillows or tender words, just Aziraphale scuttling off and leaving Crowley shaken.

* * *

He’d thought it would never happen again. That he’d fucked up a good thing. A friendship.

But just after the new year, Aziraphale had shut the door to Crowley’s office and crawled into Crowley’s lap, slipping his tongue into Crowley’s mouth easy as you please. After that Crowley had thought - it didn’t matter what Crowley had thought because when he said, for the first time, “Have dinner with me?” Aziraphale had looked back and frowned. 

“That’s probably not a good idea.”

And Crowley wasn’t one to beg, but he was one to take an opportunity when it was presented to him. Especially an opportunity in the shape of shagging a comely doctor in every private corner of the hospital, and one memorable time in the not very private space of Crowley’s back seat.

Crowley loved every second. He loved the way Aziraphale humphed into his mouth whenever they kissed for the first time after a while. He loved the curl of Aziraphale body when he came, gasping Crowley’s name. 

So Crowley did something unconscionable. He asked Aziraphale out again. It wasn’t begging. It was a practical next step in getting what he wanted. Even if Aziraphale said no. Every. Single. Time.

* * *

“You need to get over him,” Anathema said between snagging chips from Crowley’s plate. Crowley glared at her and moved the plate further away. Not that it would stop her.

“You don’t know him,” Crowley protested even though he was beginning to think Anathema was right. It was coming up on a year of this. Secret shags and rejection after rejection. He wondered if begging would work. He’d been on his knees for Aziraphale in more ways than he could count. What was one more?

“I’m not sure I want to. He’s been stringing you along. Anyone doing that must be a prick,” Anathema said decisively.

Crowley’s heart protested violently and he shook his head. “He’s good Anathema. The best of them.”

Anathema frowned. “It’s up to you but you shouldn’t wait around for him forever. You’re a catch, AJ. And if he can’t see that then screw him.”

Crowley stuffed a chip into his mouth and chewed sullenly. Part of him thought he’d be willing to wait as long as it took Aziraphale to come around. Another thought his stupid battered heart wouldn’t be able to handle another _no_.

* * *

Kissing Aziraphale was Crowley’s favorite pastime. He liked having his cock in that plush mouth, in that tight arse, but kissing? Aziraphale kissed like Crowley was precious. He curled his hand around Crowley’s jaw and kissed and kissed and kissed. Crowley wished they could be on a couch somewhere with Aziraphale settled in his lap so they could trade kisses until sunrise, making out like teenagers until their lips were swollen and sore. 

So Crowley tried to kiss him as much as possible. 

Today, Aziraphale had been smiling at a patient, doing that thing where he leaned in and laughed while he explained something and Crowley had thought, _fuck, I have to kiss him_.

With some flimsy excuse Crowley had dragged Aziraphale to the nearest janitor’s closet and was currently enjoying the taste of his mouth. It was those cinnamon candies Aziraphale liked to sneak between appointments. Aziraphale slipped his hands between their bodies and tugged open Crowley’s belt. Crowley would have been satisfied with a nice long snog but this was good too.

The fact of the matter was that Aziraphale had amazing hands. They were sure and warm and over the last eight months he’d learned just how Crowley liked it. Crowley had never been with someone so attentive, someone so attuned to him. It was another one of those reasons that made Crowley hope there was something beyond the physical between them. That Aziraphale might actually care about him. 

It was quick because all the kissing had made Crowley rather sensitive, but he didn’t care because now he could spend some quality time with Aziraphale’s prick. Which was also very good. 

After Aziraphale gasped out his release, Crowley pulled away. Should he even ask? _Have dinner with me_ danced on the back of his tongue. It probably qualified as begging by now. Did he care? What was pride in the face of all these feelings? 

“Have dinner with me?”

Crowley dropped the towel he was using to scrub the spunk from his hands and his brain ground to a halt. He said something but he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“Go out with me,” Aziraphale said. The shit lighting in the janitor’s closet made his face look pale, his eyes dark. Crowley loved him. He’d say it but even he knew that was a bit too fast.

What was this feeling? Oh fuck, it was joy. The sort that made you smile without meaning to and that, for lesser people, would mean jumping around and squealing. Instead, Crowley moved closer to Aziraphale, grinning like a madman. “People might see us together.”

Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders that way he did. Crowley was going to kiss him. Maybe for an hour. Shit, he had an appointment in fifteen. Twelve minutes of kissing then. And then forty-eight more later.

“I want them to,” Aziraphale said as something uncertain stole over his face.

Crowley grasped his hip, pulling him closer. “They might think we’re in a relationship.”

“Good.” Aziraphale’s nostrils flared and he tipped his head back to meet Crowley’s eyes. 

This was happening. Finally.

_Finally._

“Name the time and place. I’ll be there.” Damn, it felt good to know that he hadn’t been slowly going insane for eight months thinking Aziraphale felt _something_ between them.

“It’s a date.”

Crowley circled his arms around his waist. “It is.”

Enough words. It was time for kissing. Probably eleven minutes of kissing now. Not enough but it would have to do.


End file.
